Thursday (1/1)
Title: Thursday
Author: somehowunbroken
Fandom: H50
Characters: Steve/Danny
Word Count: 2,512
Rating: R/violence and swearing
Notes: Written for the H50 cliche meme. Danny, for once, gets the chance to be badass.
It’s Thursday, which means that Danny just puts his tac vest on before he even leaves the house. Steve gets antsy on Thursdays, and Antsy Steve means that someone’s getting shot at before noon. It’s easier to just have the protective gear around.
“Funny,” Steve says dryly as Danny gets into the car. “You know something I don’t?”
“You’re going to get us shot at,” Danny replies immediately. “You know it, I know it, I’m just better prepared for it than you are.”
“I’m going to get us shot at?” Steve looks mock-offended; he might even pull it off if the corner of his mouth isn’t twitching like he’s barely swallowing a smile. “I’m pretty sure if there’s shooting, Danno, it won’t be my idea-”
“That’s a lie, Steven. You just lied.”
“-okay, but there will be good reason for it, at least.”
“Good reason?” Danny’s eyebrow shoots for the ceiling. “Good reason to get us shot at? You, my friend, need to reevaluate that statement, because there’s no good reason-”
The look on Steve’s face is suddenly taut, and he’s only sort-of looking at the road. It’s not in the way that makes Danny crazy, though, not because Steve’s not just not paying attention; no, Steve’s suddenly hyper-focused on a car somewhere in front of them.
“Get Chin on the phone,” Steve says, and the bantering mood is gone. Danny’s got his phone out and dialed before he can blink.
“Care to fill me in, or - hey, Chin, hang on,” Danny says as Steve switches lanes.
“JSL-03P,” Steve reads, and Danny can’t see a car around them with that license plate, but he repeats it to Chin anyway.
There’s silence on the other side of the line for a few seconds, and then Chin says, “It’s him, it’s him-”
Before Danny has time to react in any way - to tell Steve that it’s apparently him, to ask Chin who him is anyway - Steve steps on the accelerator and wrenches the wheel to the left, and the jolt when he rams into the car next to them is pretty spectacular.
“Get a lock on our location, send backup,” Danny snaps into the phone before breaking the connection. “Jesus Christ, Steve, what the fuck-”
“That’s Jin Tae,” Steve growls, and the case flashes through Danny’s mind - drug smuggler, escaped from a takedown a few months back, extremely armed and extremely fucking dangerous.
“Fuck,” Danny says eloquently, already reaching for his gun and an extra clip. “Tell me you had his license plate memorized.”
Steve shakes his head once. “Know what the back of his head looks like,” he offers instead, with the beginning of that insane smile tugging at his mouth.
“You know what the back-” Danny cuts himself off with a sigh. “Of course you do, you creepy, creepy man.”
Steve doesn’t answer as he swerves the car into Jin Tae’s vehicle again. This time, they don’t make contact, instead, the other car peels away at the last second, banking a hard left and squealing away from them. Steve doesn’t even blink as he shifts and turns so the car is facing the other way, following them down the side street.
The chase leads to a warehouse near the pier, where there are roughly seven hundred guys with guns against two of Hawaii’s finest. Jin Tae’s car drives into the warehouse itself, and the doors roll shut just as Steve slides the Camaro to a stop nearby like it’s some sort of action movie.
“Backup,” Danny grits out as Steve flings himself from the car. “Twenty minutes, Steve, Chin and Kono are on their way-”
“We don’t have twenty minutes,” Steve replies shortly as they land behind a shipping crate, and okay, he’s got a point; Jin Tae’s goons are spilling from the building and they’re kind of angry looking. The goons fan out and start systematically searching behind crates and containers, and yeah, it’s gonna take a lot less than twenty minutes for them to make their way to where they’re crouched.
“Distraction,” Danny says, “we need a distraction-”
And really, he thinks he should know better than to say shit like that by now, because Steve just nods at him and gives him that crazy-ass smile and runs to the next container, yelling like a madman, pointedly ignoring Danny’s hisses of, “Steven!”
Of course, Danny thinks, this is Steve, whose luck borders on magic, so he twists and slips past the bullets until he’s on top of a group of them. He makes short work of the three men, punching and making motions with his hands that make Danny think he’s got a knife in his hands - and yes, there goes another goon with a red line where his jugular had been. Steve ducks down below the boxes and Danny loses sight of him.
The remaining goons have turned, though, so Danny’s able to take a few of them out as he searches for Steve among the boxes. There’s a trail of blood leading away from the pile of bodies that Steve had made, and Danny swears as he follows it, hoping against hope that it’s not Steve’s, that he’s dripping someone else’s blood from his body-
-and then he glances to his left and sees Steve, looking left and right but not behind, and the goon raises his gun and smacks it hard into Steve’s skull before Danny can form a thought, and Steve drops like a stone.
Danny’s mind clears instantly as the goon grins and starts to bend. It’s slow, so slow, like they’re in some sort of stop-motion movie, so Danny takes his time sighting his gun and pulling the trigger, and the guy drops below the boxes, a new hole between his eyes.
Danny keeps low as he picks his way to where Steve is laying. His eyes are closed and there’s blood on the ground, a lot of blood, some of it Steve’s and some not. Danny drags him into a sitting position and crouches beside him as he runs his fingers through Steve’s hair, feeling at the wound.
“McGarrett,” he snaps as quietly as he can, trying to wake Steve and keep an eye out and check for serious injury all at the same time. “Come on, princess, time to wake up, no time for a nap, not a mattress with a pea under in for miles-” He’s babbling, knows he is, but there’s no way to stop him, because the only one who’s ever come close to being able to do that is slumped against a shipping container, unconscious.
There’s a noise from behind him and Danny whips around, seeing only the gun in his face before he fires. The goon stumbles back and crashes through a crate as he goes down, which, predictably, brings the rest of the goon quad running.
“Fuck, fuck, I hate you all,” Danny mutters as the guys just keep coming like there’s a damn evil clown car around here somewhere, one on top of the other, and it’s starting to look like a war zone, all these guys going down. Most are just wounded, but Danny lines his shots up better if one of them gets closer, so there are more than a few dead as well.
He goes through the clip in his gun and his spare in no time; Steve’s still unconscious, so Danny swipes his SIG between one of the guys falling and the next appearing. There are at least twenty guys in various states of disrepair, and part of Danny’s brain wonders how many, exactly, there might be, because they’d taken down a good part of the cartel in the original bust, how can there be more than like six guys still working for the lowlife-
Steve groans faintly as Danny levels off and shoots a guy trying to vault over the nearest crate. “Danny?” he slurs.
“Morning, Sleeping Beauty,” Danny greets, glancing around. There are a few guys making their way over, but they’re far enough away that Danny feels safe enough bending to check on his partner for a few seconds. “How’s the head?”
Steve frowns. “Hurts.”
Danny grabs his chin and pulls his head up, and Steve’s eyes slam shut as he moves. That’s a whimper, too, a bona fide whimper from his lips, and Danny swears as he looks down at Steve. “Open your eyes, come on, I think you have a concussion-”
“Yeah,” Steve mumbles. “Stomach. My head.”
“Fuck,” Danny says succinctly, and then he’s got to straighten back out so he can shoot the guy trying to be all sneaky about how he’s attempting to come in on Danny’s blind spot. Danny drops him neatly. “Can you move?”
Steve squints. “Not a good idea,” he says finally as his face pinches. “Gonna-”
“Fuck,” Danny swears again when Steve leans away and loses the contents of his stomach, messy and disgusting. “Look, babe, we gotta move, okay, because there are fucking clown cars full of kamikaze idiots out there, and I’m almost out of ammo here.”
Steve’s fingers fumble awkwardly with one of the pockets in his pants as Danny shoots another guy advancing on their position. “Clips,” he says, trying again to grasp the zipper and failing.
“Okay, got it, move,” Danny replies, crouching beside his partner and undoing the pocket. There are three clips in there, and Danny wavers between thankful and rolling his eyes, because of course Steve has three extra clips in his pocket on a normal day.
“More,” Steve adds, patting another pocket, so Danny gives in and rolls his eyes.
“Let’s hope we don’t need them,” Danny replies, taking out the last guy that he can see and leaning back down. “We’re gonna try this moving thing, okay, arms around my neck, let’s see if we can stand, all right?”
Steve wraps his arms around Danny’s neck and hangs on tightly as Danny slowly stands, drawing Steve up with him. Steve’s not giving him much help, still hasn’t gotten his feet quite right beneath him, so Danny’s grateful when he’s far enough upright that he can grab the edge of the container and use it to help lever them both the rest of the way.
“How you doing?” he asks when he’s fully upright. Steve, of course, giant that he is, is slumped against Danny’s frame, still mostly not-standing.
“Concussion’s pretty bad,” Steve says finally, and Danny breathes a sigh of relief, because if Steve can still identify that he’s got a concussion they have a prayer of walking out of here.
“Okay, okay, here’s what we’re going to do,” Danny tells him, planning even as he slips an arm around Steve’s waist and tugs until Steve’s giving over most of his weight. Steve’s arm falls clumsily over Danny’s shoulders and Steve finally, finally straightens most of the way, blinking as he looks around.
“How many people did you shoot?” he asks, sounding a little amazed.
Danny snorts as he starts moving them towards the Camaro, still parked on the other side of the crates. “Clown cars, babe, I told you there were fucking clown cars full of people, right, those words passed from my lips-”
“Clowns?” a voice asks from their side, and Danny’s shoving Steve behind him, hears Steve stumble into a container but thankfully not go down, as he turns to level his gun at the speaker. Jin Tae smiles at him coldly, his own gun pointed at Danny. “There were no clowns.”
“For all the protection they gave you, yeah, clowns,” Danny bites off, gesturing to the littered bodies around them. Jin Tae smirks, dipping his head to the side as if he’s conceding a point, but it’s immediately followed by a shrug.
“Protection, distraction, sometimes the two are related,” he says, and okay, he’s got a gun leveled at Danny’s chest, maybe he’s got a point. “This way, I get to shoot you myself.”
There’s an unholy sort of glee in Jin Tae’s eyes as Steve moans from behind Danny. “You as well, Commander McGarrett,” he taunts. “Though it seems that I could just leave you here to die on your own without a worry.”
“Oh, teasing, what are you, twelve?” Danny gripes, and Jin Tae’s eyes narrow as he focuses back on Danny. “You really think you can take us out and not face repercussions, you’ve got another thing coming. I don’t know if you’ve met our co-workers, but let me just tell you, even I am afraid of Kono at times. She has this level of insanity to her that’s just-”
“Stop talking,” Jin Tae hisses, but Danny just keeps going, gesturing with the hand that isn’t keeping the gun pointed steadily at Jin Tae, warming to his topic.
“-admirable, her insanity, it really is. She gives this loon a run for his money, and you’ve personally witnessed exactly how batshit insane he is, so that should tell you a lot. If I were you, I’d seriously consider putting the gun down and just letting me arrest you, because shooting us, shooting even one of us, Kono’s going to rip your intestines out with a spoon, and then she’s going to hang you with them.”
Jin Tae’s lips curl. “Goodbye, Detective.”
His finger goes to squeeze the trigger but Danny’s a hair faster, pulling one-two-three and Jin Tae goes down hard, a surprised look on his face.
There’s silence for a minute as Danny studies the man. He’s dead, there’s no question; all three shots buried themselves in Jin Tae’s chest, a neat cluster near his heart, and there’s a lot of blood draining from the holes pretty quickly. Danny kicks his weapon away anyway, force of habit, before he turns around to check on Steve.
“You literally talked him to death,” Steve says, a slow, ridiculous smile spreading across his face. “You talked and talked and talked and then you shot him. God, Danno, you are something else, you know that?”
Danny narrows his eyes and he’s about to deliver a scathing reply, he really is, but Steve lurches off the shipping container that’s apparently the only thing keeping him upright, and Danny has to run a little to lean into Steve’s space and keep him standing. “Hey, hey, watch it.”
Steve laughs into his hair as his arms settle around Danny’s waist, and yeah, Danny’s got to get him to a hospital, get that head wound checked out, but Steve’s pulling his face back and grinning down at Danny like he’s the best thing in the world. Danny kind of can’t help the grin that spreads across his face in return as Steve leans down to kiss him, a quick brush of his mouth, and then he’s just resting his head against Danny’s with that stupid grin on his face.
“You’re something else,” Steve says again, and there’s a trip to the hospital and hours upon hours of paperwork and probably a pissed-off Chin and Kono in his future, but Danny just smiles back up at Steve and says, “Yeah, I know.”
Author: somehowunbroken
Fandom: H50
Characters: Steve/Danny
Word Count: 2,512
Rating: R/violence and swearing
Notes: Written for the H50 cliche meme. Danny, for once, gets the chance to be badass.
It’s Thursday, which means that Danny just puts his tac vest on before he even leaves the house. Steve gets antsy on Thursdays, and Antsy Steve means that someone’s getting shot at before noon. It’s easier to just have the protective gear around.
“Funny,” Steve says dryly as Danny gets into the car. “You know something I don’t?”
“You’re going to get us shot at,” Danny replies immediately. “You know it, I know it, I’m just better prepared for it than you are.”
“I’m going to get us shot at?” Steve looks mock-offended; he might even pull it off if the corner of his mouth isn’t twitching like he’s barely swallowing a smile. “I’m pretty sure if there’s shooting, Danno, it won’t be my idea-”
“That’s a lie, Steven. You just lied.”
“-okay, but there will be good reason for it, at least.”
“Good reason?” Danny’s eyebrow shoots for the ceiling. “Good reason to get us shot at? You, my friend, need to reevaluate that statement, because there’s no good reason-”
The look on Steve’s face is suddenly taut, and he’s only sort-of looking at the road. It’s not in the way that makes Danny crazy, though, not because Steve’s not just not paying attention; no, Steve’s suddenly hyper-focused on a car somewhere in front of them.
“Get Chin on the phone,” Steve says, and the bantering mood is gone. Danny’s got his phone out and dialed before he can blink.
“Care to fill me in, or - hey, Chin, hang on,” Danny says as Steve switches lanes.
“JSL-03P,” Steve reads, and Danny can’t see a car around them with that license plate, but he repeats it to Chin anyway.
There’s silence on the other side of the line for a few seconds, and then Chin says, “It’s him, it’s him-”
Before Danny has time to react in any way - to tell Steve that it’s apparently him, to ask Chin who him is anyway - Steve steps on the accelerator and wrenches the wheel to the left, and the jolt when he rams into the car next to them is pretty spectacular.
“Get a lock on our location, send backup,” Danny snaps into the phone before breaking the connection. “Jesus Christ, Steve, what the fuck-”
“That’s Jin Tae,” Steve growls, and the case flashes through Danny’s mind - drug smuggler, escaped from a takedown a few months back, extremely armed and extremely fucking dangerous.
“Fuck,” Danny says eloquently, already reaching for his gun and an extra clip. “Tell me you had his license plate memorized.”
Steve shakes his head once. “Know what the back of his head looks like,” he offers instead, with the beginning of that insane smile tugging at his mouth.
“You know what the back-” Danny cuts himself off with a sigh. “Of course you do, you creepy, creepy man.”
Steve doesn’t answer as he swerves the car into Jin Tae’s vehicle again. This time, they don’t make contact, instead, the other car peels away at the last second, banking a hard left and squealing away from them. Steve doesn’t even blink as he shifts and turns so the car is facing the other way, following them down the side street.
The chase leads to a warehouse near the pier, where there are roughly seven hundred guys with guns against two of Hawaii’s finest. Jin Tae’s car drives into the warehouse itself, and the doors roll shut just as Steve slides the Camaro to a stop nearby like it’s some sort of action movie.
“Backup,” Danny grits out as Steve flings himself from the car. “Twenty minutes, Steve, Chin and Kono are on their way-”
“We don’t have twenty minutes,” Steve replies shortly as they land behind a shipping crate, and okay, he’s got a point; Jin Tae’s goons are spilling from the building and they’re kind of angry looking. The goons fan out and start systematically searching behind crates and containers, and yeah, it’s gonna take a lot less than twenty minutes for them to make their way to where they’re crouched.
“Distraction,” Danny says, “we need a distraction-”
And really, he thinks he should know better than to say shit like that by now, because Steve just nods at him and gives him that crazy-ass smile and runs to the next container, yelling like a madman, pointedly ignoring Danny’s hisses of, “Steven!”
Of course, Danny thinks, this is Steve, whose luck borders on magic, so he twists and slips past the bullets until he’s on top of a group of them. He makes short work of the three men, punching and making motions with his hands that make Danny think he’s got a knife in his hands - and yes, there goes another goon with a red line where his jugular had been. Steve ducks down below the boxes and Danny loses sight of him.
The remaining goons have turned, though, so Danny’s able to take a few of them out as he searches for Steve among the boxes. There’s a trail of blood leading away from the pile of bodies that Steve had made, and Danny swears as he follows it, hoping against hope that it’s not Steve’s, that he’s dripping someone else’s blood from his body-
-and then he glances to his left and sees Steve, looking left and right but not behind, and the goon raises his gun and smacks it hard into Steve’s skull before Danny can form a thought, and Steve drops like a stone.
Danny’s mind clears instantly as the goon grins and starts to bend. It’s slow, so slow, like they’re in some sort of stop-motion movie, so Danny takes his time sighting his gun and pulling the trigger, and the guy drops below the boxes, a new hole between his eyes.
Danny keeps low as he picks his way to where Steve is laying. His eyes are closed and there’s blood on the ground, a lot of blood, some of it Steve’s and some not. Danny drags him into a sitting position and crouches beside him as he runs his fingers through Steve’s hair, feeling at the wound.
“McGarrett,” he snaps as quietly as he can, trying to wake Steve and keep an eye out and check for serious injury all at the same time. “Come on, princess, time to wake up, no time for a nap, not a mattress with a pea under in for miles-” He’s babbling, knows he is, but there’s no way to stop him, because the only one who’s ever come close to being able to do that is slumped against a shipping container, unconscious.
There’s a noise from behind him and Danny whips around, seeing only the gun in his face before he fires. The goon stumbles back and crashes through a crate as he goes down, which, predictably, brings the rest of the goon quad running.
“Fuck, fuck, I hate you all,” Danny mutters as the guys just keep coming like there’s a damn evil clown car around here somewhere, one on top of the other, and it’s starting to look like a war zone, all these guys going down. Most are just wounded, but Danny lines his shots up better if one of them gets closer, so there are more than a few dead as well.
He goes through the clip in his gun and his spare in no time; Steve’s still unconscious, so Danny swipes his SIG between one of the guys falling and the next appearing. There are at least twenty guys in various states of disrepair, and part of Danny’s brain wonders how many, exactly, there might be, because they’d taken down a good part of the cartel in the original bust, how can there be more than like six guys still working for the lowlife-
Steve groans faintly as Danny levels off and shoots a guy trying to vault over the nearest crate. “Danny?” he slurs.
“Morning, Sleeping Beauty,” Danny greets, glancing around. There are a few guys making their way over, but they’re far enough away that Danny feels safe enough bending to check on his partner for a few seconds. “How’s the head?”
Steve frowns. “Hurts.”
Danny grabs his chin and pulls his head up, and Steve’s eyes slam shut as he moves. That’s a whimper, too, a bona fide whimper from his lips, and Danny swears as he looks down at Steve. “Open your eyes, come on, I think you have a concussion-”
“Yeah,” Steve mumbles. “Stomach. My head.”
“Fuck,” Danny says succinctly, and then he’s got to straighten back out so he can shoot the guy trying to be all sneaky about how he’s attempting to come in on Danny’s blind spot. Danny drops him neatly. “Can you move?”
Steve squints. “Not a good idea,” he says finally as his face pinches. “Gonna-”
“Fuck,” Danny swears again when Steve leans away and loses the contents of his stomach, messy and disgusting. “Look, babe, we gotta move, okay, because there are fucking clown cars full of kamikaze idiots out there, and I’m almost out of ammo here.”
Steve’s fingers fumble awkwardly with one of the pockets in his pants as Danny shoots another guy advancing on their position. “Clips,” he says, trying again to grasp the zipper and failing.
“Okay, got it, move,” Danny replies, crouching beside his partner and undoing the pocket. There are three clips in there, and Danny wavers between thankful and rolling his eyes, because of course Steve has three extra clips in his pocket on a normal day.
“More,” Steve adds, patting another pocket, so Danny gives in and rolls his eyes.
“Let’s hope we don’t need them,” Danny replies, taking out the last guy that he can see and leaning back down. “We’re gonna try this moving thing, okay, arms around my neck, let’s see if we can stand, all right?”
Steve wraps his arms around Danny’s neck and hangs on tightly as Danny slowly stands, drawing Steve up with him. Steve’s not giving him much help, still hasn’t gotten his feet quite right beneath him, so Danny’s grateful when he’s far enough upright that he can grab the edge of the container and use it to help lever them both the rest of the way.
“How you doing?” he asks when he’s fully upright. Steve, of course, giant that he is, is slumped against Danny’s frame, still mostly not-standing.
“Concussion’s pretty bad,” Steve says finally, and Danny breathes a sigh of relief, because if Steve can still identify that he’s got a concussion they have a prayer of walking out of here.
“Okay, okay, here’s what we’re going to do,” Danny tells him, planning even as he slips an arm around Steve’s waist and tugs until Steve’s giving over most of his weight. Steve’s arm falls clumsily over Danny’s shoulders and Steve finally, finally straightens most of the way, blinking as he looks around.
“How many people did you shoot?” he asks, sounding a little amazed.
Danny snorts as he starts moving them towards the Camaro, still parked on the other side of the crates. “Clown cars, babe, I told you there were fucking clown cars full of people, right, those words passed from my lips-”
“Clowns?” a voice asks from their side, and Danny’s shoving Steve behind him, hears Steve stumble into a container but thankfully not go down, as he turns to level his gun at the speaker. Jin Tae smiles at him coldly, his own gun pointed at Danny. “There were no clowns.”
“For all the protection they gave you, yeah, clowns,” Danny bites off, gesturing to the littered bodies around them. Jin Tae smirks, dipping his head to the side as if he’s conceding a point, but it’s immediately followed by a shrug.
“Protection, distraction, sometimes the two are related,” he says, and okay, he’s got a gun leveled at Danny’s chest, maybe he’s got a point. “This way, I get to shoot you myself.”
There’s an unholy sort of glee in Jin Tae’s eyes as Steve moans from behind Danny. “You as well, Commander McGarrett,” he taunts. “Though it seems that I could just leave you here to die on your own without a worry.”
“Oh, teasing, what are you, twelve?” Danny gripes, and Jin Tae’s eyes narrow as he focuses back on Danny. “You really think you can take us out and not face repercussions, you’ve got another thing coming. I don’t know if you’ve met our co-workers, but let me just tell you, even I am afraid of Kono at times. She has this level of insanity to her that’s just-”
“Stop talking,” Jin Tae hisses, but Danny just keeps going, gesturing with the hand that isn’t keeping the gun pointed steadily at Jin Tae, warming to his topic.
“-admirable, her insanity, it really is. She gives this loon a run for his money, and you’ve personally witnessed exactly how batshit insane he is, so that should tell you a lot. If I were you, I’d seriously consider putting the gun down and just letting me arrest you, because shooting us, shooting even one of us, Kono’s going to rip your intestines out with a spoon, and then she’s going to hang you with them.”
Jin Tae’s lips curl. “Goodbye, Detective.”
His finger goes to squeeze the trigger but Danny’s a hair faster, pulling one-two-three and Jin Tae goes down hard, a surprised look on his face.
There’s silence for a minute as Danny studies the man. He’s dead, there’s no question; all three shots buried themselves in Jin Tae’s chest, a neat cluster near his heart, and there’s a lot of blood draining from the holes pretty quickly. Danny kicks his weapon away anyway, force of habit, before he turns around to check on Steve.
“You literally talked him to death,” Steve says, a slow, ridiculous smile spreading across his face. “You talked and talked and talked and then you shot him. God, Danno, you are something else, you know that?”
Danny narrows his eyes and he’s about to deliver a scathing reply, he really is, but Steve lurches off the shipping container that’s apparently the only thing keeping him upright, and Danny has to run a little to lean into Steve’s space and keep him standing. “Hey, hey, watch it.”
Steve laughs into his hair as his arms settle around Danny’s waist, and yeah, Danny’s got to get him to a hospital, get that head wound checked out, but Steve’s pulling his face back and grinning down at Danny like he’s the best thing in the world. Danny kind of can’t help the grin that spreads across his face in return as Steve leans down to kiss him, a quick brush of his mouth, and then he’s just resting his head against Danny’s with that stupid grin on his face.
“You’re something else,” Steve says again, and there’s a trip to the hospital and hours upon hours of paperwork and probably a pissed-off Chin and Kono in his future, but Danny just smiles back up at Steve and says, “Yeah, I know.”